


Stiles the Weird Demon

by Triangulum



Series: Stiles the Weird Demon [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Sarcastic little shits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 18:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8458957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: Peter shouts the last words of the exorcism ritual and looks up expectantly. The demon sitting on his kitchen counter just blinks and him, then yawns. Peter's tempted to just chuck the book he'd been reading from at him, but that wouldn't accomplish anything but earn him a ruined book. Based on the prompt "I accidentally summoned some sort of demon and now it's just kind of hanging around my flat".





	

Peter shouts the last words of the exorcism ritual and looks up expectantly. The demon sitting on his kitchen counter just blinks and him, then yawns. Peter's tempted to just chuck the book he'd been reading from at him, but that wouldn't accomplish anything but earn him a ruined book. 

"Solid effort, horrible execution," the demon, _Stiles_ , says. What kind of name is Stiles for a demon?

"Why won't you just _leave_?" Peter says through gritted teeth.

"Well that's a stupid question," Stiles says. He's flipping through a magazine Peter has on the counter. "It's literal Hell, dude, why would I want to go back?"

"I don't care if you want to go back, I exorcised you!" Peter says.

"Nah, you exorcised a minor succubus. Well, you would have if one were here," Stiles says, not looking up from the article about DIY holiday ornaments. "You're going to need something a lot bigger for something like me." He does look up then, just to wiggle his eyebrows.

"And what kind of demon are you?" Peter asks. As he usually does when Peter asks this question, Stiles just gives him a cheeky grin. 

The last week has been intolerable, ever since Peter accidentally summoned Stiles, the demon. He blames Deaton. The druid had to have known that Peter would swipe that book when he wasn't looking and he _had_ to have known that a spell promising power would appeal to Peter. The spell failed to mention anything about a _demon_ popping into existence and singing his living room rug.

"Can't you go bother someone else?" Peter asks, shoving the demon off kitchen counter when he walks past to the fridge. The fear of the demon he'd immediately been swimming in had worn off quickly when he discovered Stiles was content to be an annoying little shit and wasn't actually going to hurt him. Probably. Possibly. 

"Nope," Stiles says, recovering easily and leaning against the counter. "I'm all yours, dude."

"Stop saying dude, are you a demon or not?" Peter asks.

"Of course," Stiles says. "Just because I'm over a thousand years old doesn't mean I don't like you little ones' weird slang." Peter's eye twitches at being called little by someone who looks like he couldn't legally drink. "This is what happens when you mess with forces outside your control. Shouldn't fuck with spells you know nothing about."

Stiles the demon is...weird. Peter had never really contemplated meeting a demon, as far as he knew, there were no such thing. But even for demons, Peter thinks Stiles is weird. There's almost no threatening, no cajoling Peter into giving up his immortal soul. Stiles seems more than content to read through Peter's bookcase and watch HGTV. 

He's only truly frightened Peter once, and Peter knows that that had been his own fault. He'd grabbed Stiles by the throat and squeezed, hissing that he was going to see how well he functioned without an esophagus. Stiles' eyes had turned black with just thin rings of white where the irises should be. Peter's hand had suddenly burned liked he'd put it in a fire pit and he'd tried to snatch it away, but Stiles had grabbed his arm, his skin like acid against Peter's, and said, "It would be nothing for me to kill you, you overgrown puppy, and trust me when I say I have much more creative ideas than the twisted shit you have going on up here." He tapped Peter's temple and Peter had immediately collapsed, not waking up for hours. When he did come to, he was in a heap on the floor, his skin red with healing burns. He'd been careful since then.

But other than that run in, Stiles is seemingly completely happy to crash in Peter's apartment like a bad house guest. Peter highly doubts that this is normal demon behavior, but it's not like he has anything to compare it to. Eventually, he'll probably have to go back and ask Deaton how to send the demon away, but he isn't willing to crawl to the man with his tail between his legs quite yet. But if Stiles eats any more of his expensive gelato while he's gone, he may get there quickly. 

"You're like the biggest walking cliche ever," Stiles says randomly. Peter looks over from where he's cooking dinner and raises an eyebrow. Stiles continues, not waiting for a response. "High-powered lawyer summoning a demon to get him even more power? Dude there are books about this, movies, probably Disney shows."

"I didn't know I was summoning a demon," Peter says for what must be the tenth time.

"I figured that much when you almost passed out when I popped up in the middle of your living room."

"I did not almost pass out."

"You went pretty fucking pale, dude."

Peter doesn't answer, just stirs the stir fry. He plates food for Stiles as well as his own when he's done. It's easier to just give Stiles his own rather than have the demon just taking food off his plate. They eat in silence, Stiles quite engrossed with the episode of Fixer Upper, when Peter stills. Less than a minute later, there's a knock on the front door. Peter groans. He knows if he doesn't answer, Talia will just come in anyway. 

"I don't suppose you'll hide?" Peter asks Stiles.

"Not a chance in hell," Stiles says. 

Peter sighs and gets up, not even bothering to put on a fake smile when he answers the door. 

"What?" he asks.

Talia sweeps past him, not waiting for an invitation.

"You aren't answering your phone," she says.

"I know, being as its my phone and all," Peter says.

"Why?" she demands.

"Usually when someone doesn't answer, it means they don't want to talk," Peter says. 

Talia ignores him, her eyes narrowing in on Stiles, who does nothing but raise an eyebrow.

"Who's this?" she asks.

"Wow, I'm right here," Stiles says.

"You never let people in here," Talia says.

"And yet, you insist on barging in anyway," Peter says.

"I need you to visit the Parkers in San Francisco," Talia says brusquely, carefully avoiding saying anything supernatural. She needn't have bothered, Stiles knows exactly what she is. 

"Wow, does she always just tell you what to do, never ask?" Stiles asks Peter.

"Yes," Peter says. "It's quite the talent of hers."

Talia's face darkens in anger, not used to being ignored. 

"Jeez, no wonder you sent for me," Stiles says.

"Sent for you?" Talia asks.

Stiles stands and saunters up to Peter, draping himself over the man's shoulder. He cocks his head to the side and winks at Talia, his hand trailing up Peter's chest. Peter goes with it, happy to cause Talia's face to turn that shade of purple.

" _Sent_ for me," Stiles says, smirking.

"You refuse to let our family in here and you call a prostitute?" she hisses in outrage.

Peter runs his hand down Stiles' back until it rests low on his hip. He tugs Stiles closer, nudging at Stiles' temple with his nose. He doesn't know if the way Stiles shivers is genuine or not, but he files it away as interesting.

Talia looks like she's about to burst a blood vessel. 

"So as you can see, I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment," Peter drawls. 

"I am ordering you - "

"Oh, you like to be ordered, Peter? I can make that happen," Stiles purrs.

"Peter! The Parkers are - "

"Going to have to wait," Peter says. "Goodbye."

Talia looks like she's going to stand her ground, but then Stiles kisses the side of Peter's neck and that's apparently too much. She makes a disgusted sound low in her throat and storms out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

Stiles doesn't move from where he's draped over Peter, nudging at the man's jaw with his nose. It's then that Peter inhales Stiles' scent and realizes just how happy to demon is to be there.

"Do you want me to stop?" Stiles asks, his voice a purr.

"Do I have a choice?" Peter asks. Stiles immediately withdraws like Peter is the one that burned him this time. When Peter opens his eyes, Stiles is ten feet away, his brows furrowed. "Stiles?"

"Of course it matters. I'm a demon, I'm not - " Stiles cuts himself off and huffs indignantly. 

"You're a very strange demon, aren't you?" Peter asks.

"Half-demon," Stiles admits. Peter stares.

"What?" Peter asks. "That's possible?"

"Obviously. Why do you think I don't want to go back? Do you think demons are _nice_? Do you think they like a half-human? Do you think it's all sunshine and rainbows for me?" Stiles asks. "We're not sitting down there watching Hallmark Movies!"

"I never thought about it," Peter replies honestly, and feels a little foolish for not considering what Hell must be like for demons.

"Clearly," Stiles says. "Order a pizza, I'm starving over here."

Peter doesn't usually enjoy being ordered around, but if food is going to make it easier to pry answers out of Stiles, he'll do it. 

"Is that why the exorcisms aren't working?" Peter asks after he hangs up with the pizza place. "You're part human."

Stiles makes finger guns at him from where he's lounging on the sofa. "You got it," he says. 

"So if you're only a half-demon, what kind of demon is that?" Peter asks. Stiles gives him a flat look. "I'm not asking so I can exorcise you, I'm curious."

Stiles studies him for a moment, then shrugs. "Not like you could exorcise me anyway," he says. "My mom was a crossroads demon that fell in love with a human. When they found out, they dragged us back to Hell and killed her."

"You were born here," Peter says in surprise.

"Yep. Curly fries man, Hell doesn't have them. I missed that the most."

"So you aren't an incubus," Peter says teasingly, steering them away from delicate topics.

"No," Stiles says with a snort. He wiggles his eyebrows faux-seductively. "Why, this working for you?"

Peter rolls his eyes but doesn't answer, unsure if Stiles can tell when people are lying.

"I'm pretty sure I didn't try to summon a half of a crossroads demon," Peter says.

"Your spell book is mistranslated," Stiles says. "It says the spell will give power. It should say the spell with conjure the one who can give you power. And bam, crossroads demon."

"But it's not giving power, is it? I'd need to make a deal," Peter says.

"All power has its price," Stiles confirms.

"So why haven't you tried to make a deal with me yet?" Peter asks.

"They only let me up every once in a while, and usually on a really tight leash. There are a few hunters taking out crossroads demons though and we're shortstaffed, so here I am. If I make a deal with you, I get sucked back down there and deliver the contract. If I don't, well, they'll have to march their happy asses up here and get me themselves," Stiles says.

"So you made it back to Earth. Why are you still here, specifically at my apartment?"

"I like you," Stiles says simply. "And I have some unfinished business, you could say."

"Isn't that ghosts?" Peter asks.

"This is personal," Stiles says, his tone turning dark. "Tell me, what do you know about the Argent family?"

A growl rumbles from Peter unbidden. "They tried to kill my family," he says.

"What a coincidence, mine too," Stiles says. "They're the reason my mother and I were caught. We were running for our lives after they slaughtered my human father, and she fumbled one of her protective enchantments. They were on us in seconds. Their leader, dear old Elizabeth Argent, ended up on a torture rack in Hell and I promised her I'd find her descendants and wipe out her line."

Peter's eyes gleam. He takes a step closer to Stiles and reaches out, lights tracing his fingers over the demon's cheekbone. 

"You truly are magnificent," Peter says softly. "Let me help."

"I'm sparing no one," Stiles warns. "No woman, child, elder, no one."

"I won't ask you to," Peter says. "Christopher Argent was the only decent one in their family. Gerard killed him, his wife, and his daughter when they condemned Kate for trying to burn my family alive."

"We'll save them for last," Stiles decides. "Let them watch their empire collapse around them. Let them hide and cower and beg while they're decimated." Stiles circles Peter like he's the wolf. "I've seen hundreds of thousands of souls. Corrupt souls, evil, weak, pitiful. I've never seen one quite like yours."

Peter struggles to find his voice, Stiles' voice in his ear quite distracting. His wolf prickles at having the demon at his back, even though Peter is sure (partially sure) that Stiles won't hurt him. Peter leans back, letting his back lean into the front of Stiles' body. Stiles immediately wraps his arms around Peter, his lips grazing the wolf's ear. Peter's breath hitches and he can feel Stiles smile against his skin. His hand traces down Peter's stomach, resting right over his belt buckle. 

"Tell me, little wolf, is that what's turning you on? Knowing you'll soon destroy the family that's caused you so much pain?" Stiles asks, teasing at the hem of Peter's shirt. "Or is it me?"

"Both," Peter says, voice embarrassingly hoarse.

Stiles hums, slipping a hand under the tight v-neck Peter is wearing. He merely strokes the soft skin above Peter's belt, not going any further.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks

"No," Peter says.

Seems like he now has his own personal demon. Or his demon has his own werewolf. Either way, Peter is okay with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com) or my [ main blog](http://www.femmmefatalist.tumblr.com).


End file.
